The Silent Dripping of Idle Minds
by Ninjamuffin13
Summary: Random stories that I'm too lazy to develop into full-length fics. May they momentarily relieve your boredom.
1. Joy in Bundle Form

There were times when all that stood between life and death was luck. Times when the wheels of fate were the only reason you didn't find yourself with a one-way ticket to the afterlife. Times when everything in the world wanted you dead, when the universe conspired to beat you down until you couldn't get up again, but you managed to turn out not vaporized. Somehow.

This was not one of those times.

The common room was, for once, blissfully silent. Minutes before, the team had been hanging out, as teens are wont to do, talking amoung themselves and enjoying the rarity of a quiet day when the conversation had petered out and a comfortable silence settled over them. Amicably enjoying each others' company, the Titans drifted into their own thoughts.

Of course, such quiet was not made to last.

"Dudes, dudes, _dudes!_" Beastboy suddenly exclaimed from where he lay on the kitchen's island counter, arms held up in front of him as though he were literally wrestling with some concept. The others lazily looked over to him, not quite caring enough to move from the couch. "I just had the weirdest thought."

Now, Beastboy was not what one would call a deep thinker. True, he was clever enough, even with his lack of proper schooling, but he lacked enough of an attention span to often think deeply upon a subject. Instead, he simply shot through many, _many_ different subjects rapidly. In doing this, he often touched upon strange and obscure ideas that, while usually pointless, tended to amuse his friends.

"Have you realized that you could probably turn into Fluttershy if you tried?" There was a brief return to silence as everyone turned to Raven, who impassively stared right back at them. "He probably could."

"Ok, while that is an awesome idea that I will totally try in the very-near future," The green Titan sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the counter, facing the others. "I just realized- wait. How long do you think you're gonna live, Rob?" To his credit, Robin managed to not look too confused by the sudden topic.

"Uh, assuming I don't get offed by some madman or evil scheme?" He gave it a moment's thought. "Probably somewhere around eighty or ninety, if I don't fall in any pits." BB nodded to himself.

"Right. And you're probably gonna live about the same, right Cy?"

"I guess?" Cyborg shrugged, looking puzzled. "I mean, I doubt I'm ever going to decide to go full-on robot or download my mind into a computer or something, so I'll be out once my biological parts fail. Depending on how medical tech advances, I'll probably hit one-twenty or so. Not like I'm not already on life-support, after all."

"Oh yeah, I guess you are. Weird." Beastboy blinked at him, before turning to Raven. "What about you?"

"Why do you want to know?" She countered. "This seems like a pretty morbid line of thought for you."

"Just curious, is all." He held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I mean, you might live longer considering, well, you know."

"Right." The grey girl drawled, not looking convinced. "Well, _considering_, Trigon is at least several centuries old, possibly a millennia or more. Then again, I've never taken after him much. I suppose I'll find out my life span once I start aging."

"And I am unsure of how to answer the question." Starfire offered before Beastboy could ask. "I have never heard of a Tamaranian dying of old age, but that may be because those who grow rutha, weak, swiftly fall in battle. The eldest that I know of is my K'norfka, Galfore, and he is little more than forty of your Earth years." She smiled sheepishly.

"Why, how long do you think you're going to live?" Robin raised one hand, half-pointing at BB.

"Alright dudes, this kinda sucks," Beastboy leaned back on one hand. "'Cuz I'm pretty sure I'm gonna outlive all of you. Well, except maybe Raven." Cyborg frowned.

"And how do ya figure that?"

"Medusas, dude." The shape shifter stated simply, as though it should be obvious. "Turritopsis nutricula, specifically. It's a jellyfish that reverts to a polyp when it starts to get too old, so it can just grow up all over again." Starfire raised an eyebrow-stub.

"But, Beastboy," She objected. "I have seen you turn into fully-grown animals and also into very young animals, such as when you do 'the face'. Would this not suggest that your transformations do not affect the age of your human form?"

"Well, yeah," He admitted. "But none of my other forms change life stages while I'm in them."

"Still," Robin spoke up. "If your forms are all distinct in terms of age, then it shouldn't matter; You'd just be the same age as you were before when you morphed back."

"Well, it does work." BB insisted.

"You sure about that?" Raven challenged.

"Hey, I'm Beastboy. I know this stuff."

"I'm pretty sure I've heard _that_ before." Cyborg smirked. "And I also remember what happened directly afterward."

"Alright, fine!" BB fumed, crossing his arms. "I'll prove it!" And, with that statement, the green teen was replaced with a quivering pile of green jelly. The other Titans quickly leapt up from the couch in alarm, gathering 'round. Before their eyes, the mass of jelly shrunk to a smaller mass of jelly. Raven was the first to voice what they were all thinking.

"So, if this actually works, wouldn't that mean….." At that moment, the jellyfish morphed back into a very smug, very green toddler. The ensuing shocked silence was once again broken by Raven.

"I call dibs on not doing any diapers."

* * *

><p>So, I've had this idea bouncing around in my brain ever since I heard about those jellyfish. I thought it might amuse.<p> 


	2. March of the Titans

**June 13, 20****

**1300 hours**

**Kalabo, Zambia**

It was a strange feeling, taking a civilian flight. I'm used to black helicopters and aircraft carriers and APCs. Sitting amoung the few other passengers with too little legroom and an in-flight movie was almost surreal compared to the usual. Still, this was a low-key operation, at least for now, and corporate investors don't fly Black Hawks.

"Mr. Ericson!" Our contact was already waiting for us at the airport, in character from the word go. "Welcome to Zed, ek se!" The Sergeant Major was the first to reach him, grabbing the white Afrikaner's hand and giving it a strong shake.

"Nice to finally meet you in person, Bukose." He told the grinning man. "How soon can we see the prospective site?" In general, Americans in expensive suits don't like to spend more time in small African nations than they need to; he had little trouble playing the part.

"Right away, sir, right away!" Bukose turned from him and grasped my hand, playing up his role as much as much as possible. I had to hold back my surprise; for someone built like a beanpole, he had a powerful grip. "The car is waiting just outside."

We proceeded quickly, the black-haired man carrying our luggage to complete the image, looking like nothing more than a pair of American business men with an overly-subservient employee. The car was some custom model that I didn't recognize, painted in a blue and white pattern with tinted windows and precisely fancy enough to look like an attempt to impress. Bukose stored our cases in the trunk and held the back door open for us, before climbing in the driver's seat. The car was actually much roomier on the inside than I would have guessed, and its deceptively sturdy construction hinted that there might be more to it than what met the eye.

"Kay, dudes, we're clean." His accent shifted instantly to a bizarre mishmash of Californian surfer and, if I wasn't mistaken, Rhode Islander. "Names and ranks."

"Sergeant Major Jackson Frohst." The Sergeant Major thumped a fist against his chest, then gestured to me. "And Specialist Richard Grayson." Bukose made a face, as though he were suppressing amusement, and pulled the car away from the airport.

"Jack Frost?" He let out what sounded suspiciously like a giggle. "Seriously?" Frohst gave him a glare that could freeze the sun solid, which did little to deter him. "Hey, wait, I've heard of you." Bukose looked at me through the rearview mirror. "Dude, you're Robin!"

"Yeah." I couldn't help but grin at the awe in his voice. "I guess I am."

"Dude, does the Batman really-"

"-Dress up like a bat? Sure does." He broke out into what could best be described as cackles at this.

"That is so awesome." This man, I decided then, was alright. "The spooks must be pretty serious about this if they sent you along."

"We are." Frohst cut in. "Deathstroke is a threat to the entire free world, and as such must be dealt with decisively." He glanced out the window momentarily. "Your message stated that your people found his current base?" Bukose shrugged.

"I dunno," He said off-handedly, hanging a left turn out of town. "That's more Vic's area of expertise. I just go where they tell me." Frohst gave a snort at this, but didn't press it. Being trained by the someone who was often referred to as the world's greatest detective, however, I was a touch more curious.

"Just who are 'they'?" I asked. Bukose raised an eyebrow at me.

"The rest of the team. Weren't you guys briefed?" He sounded more genuinely curious than mocking, so I did my best to tap down my annoyance.

"We were told that we would be briefed upon rendezvous with our contact, namely you, at the ops center for the mission. No one mentioned anything about another team." Bukose nodded in understanding, then rolled his eyes.

"Ah, should have figured. Government types never tell anyone anything. If they could send you on assignments without you knowing about it, they totally would." He scoffed, and Frohst nodded, grunting in agreement. "I guess it'd be best if I let Vic explain everything, 'cause I don't really pay all that much attention to the finer details." I resisted the urge to sigh in frustration.

"And when will we be seeing Vic?" I could tolerate the runaround back home, barely, but I was loathe to accept it in the field, where information could be the difference between a successful mission and never seeing Gotham again. Not that I'd been to Gotham in the last few years…..

"Oh, just about…." He pulled the car to a stop off the road. "Now." He pressed a button on the stereo. "Yo, Vic, I hope everything's nice and tidy in there; I've brought guests!" He singsonged. There was a moment of silence, during which I began to wonder if Bukose wasn't insane.

"You know that ain't the password, string bean." A low, weary voice floated out of the car's speakers. Bukose laughed.

"Well, your password sucks." He retorted matter-of-factly. "Now lemme in before I get antsy and start pickin' at the upholstery." The car was suddenly moving downward, sinking into the ground.

"You pull so much as one thread from my baby and you're mincemeat, B." Vic promised, much to Bukose's amusement. The cheerful man turned around to face me.

"Hey, you guys had lunch yet? I make a mean tofu burger."

* * *

><p>The elevator brought us to a small room carved roughly from the natural stone, no larger than your average public restroom - minus the stalls. There was only one exit aside from the shaft itself, a metal door on the far side of the room. I found myself nodding at this; it would be difficult for any invading group to gain ground here.<p>

As the Sergeant Major and I climbed from the vehicle, Bukose had already approached the door, which didn't have any means of being opened from the outside. Not that I could see, anyway, and I have sharp eyes. He raised his hand and tapped the back of his knuckles against the door in a vaguely musical pattern.

_Tik tik tik ti-tak tik tak tik tak_

He paused for a moment, then knocked once again.

_Tik ti-tak_

The door swung open almost the same instant he finished knocking, revealing a large black man, probably six-five or so, whom I could only assume was Vic. He was bald, though I couldn't tell if it was naturally or otherwise, and had the build of a defensive lineman. Something about his face seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite place him.

"Sup, dude." Bukose greeted him, before jerking a thumb over his shoulder at us. "Got Sergeant Major Snowman and the son of the _Goddamned__Batman_reporting for duty."

"Riiiight." Vic raised an eyebrow at us, but stepped to the side and let us file past him into a larger room, securing the door behind us. This room was at least three or four times bigger, reminding me a bit of an old WWII bunker in style and furnishing, with a door each to the left and right. An electric lantern hung from the ceiling, which was so low that Vic was nearly scraping his head against it. There was a round table in the center of the room, apparently carved right out of the rock when they dug out the place. Bukose immediately went to a little cooler that sat off to the side and began to root through it.

"Lemme guess," Vic pointed to the Sergeant Major. "Jackson Frohst," He swung his finger towards me. "And Tim Drake?"

"So close, dude!" Bukose laughed. Frohst rolled his eyes, while I took the opportunity to step in and push the conversation in the right direction.

"Richard Grayson, ready for briefing." Vic paused for a moment, then nodded to himself.

"Right, shoulda guessed, with the hair…" He muttered quietly, before speaking up. "How much Uncle Sam tell you two before shipping you down?" He motioned to the table, and we each took a seat as the Sergeant Major answered.

"According to intel from a reliable source here in Zambia, Slade 'Deathstroke' Wilson has resurfaced and set up shop near one of the country's tapped out mining complexes. Word is, he's been recruiting the locals for some kind of low-rent army and the Zambian government doesn't have the cash to deal with him themselves. Our mission is to locate, infiltrate, and apprehend or exterminate." Frohst sat back in his seat. "I've been told you've already got a handle on the first part."

"Yeah," Vic frowned. "Figures they'd only give you a basics." He looked over to Bukose. "Yo, B, go get the girls; they should be here for this." Bukose gave him a mock salute.

"I'll do what I can, dude, but I'm gonna blame it on you if I end up interrupting Zen time." He warned, heading through the left door as Vic made a shooing motion at him.

"I'll assume, based on everything else you weren't told, that they didn't tell you who you'd be working with for this shindig." The bald man gave us an even stare, which we returned. "Of course. Name's Victor Stone." In the back of my mind, something clicked.

_-__Name: __Victor __Stone. __African__ American. __Bald, __brown__ eyes.__ Six-foot,__ six-inches.__ Approx.__ Three-hundred __pounds. __PHD __in __mechanics __and __engineering. __Originally __employed__ by __Star __Labs, __left __after __accident __involving __CLASSIFIED__ project. __Bombastic __personality, __tempered __by __occasional __depression. __A __careful __planner, __but __has __been __known __to __act __rashly __in__ anger __or__ arrogance. __Codename__…__..__-_

"Cyborg." I realized now why he seemed familiar. I'd been briefed on who he was the day of my first field mission. He was part of a special squad. They were freelancers, with loyalty to no government or faction but their own. Official stance was that they were to be considered criminals to be arrested on sight. Unofficially, though, you were advised to shut your mouth and do whatever they told you to, or else just stay out of their way.

There was a reason they were called Titans, after all.

"Heard of me, have ya?" Cyborg smirked at me. "Well, I've heard of you. You do some good work, Robin."

"Just doing my part." My mind was doing some quick acrobatic work, piecing everything together. Frohst didn't seem surprised to see a Titan here, which meant that he was probably better briefed than I was and chose not to elect that information. Cyborg was a Titan, and the Titans don't split up. That meant the other Titan was here. In fact, that probably meant that Bukose-

"GAH!" Bukose suddenly burst back into the room, panicking loudly, black wig askew. "Dude, save me!" He ducked behind Cyborg.

_-__Name: __Garfield__ Logan. __Anglo-Saxon.__ Blonde, __blue __eyes.__ Five-foot,__ eight-inches.__ Approx.__ one-hundred,__ seventy__ pounds.__ Only__ surviving__ member__ of __mercenary __group __Doom __Patrol,__ joined __at__ age__ nine.__ Survivalist __and __animal__ expert.__ Personality __described__ as__ energetic__ and __jovial, __with__ possible__ PTSD-related __tics.__ Vegetarian. __Born __in__ Africa,__ survived__ alone__ in__ the __jungle__ from__ ages __five __to__ nine.__ Local__ tribes __mistook __him __for__ a __jungle__ spirit__ and__ called__ him__… __-_

"Beastboy." I was talking more to myself than anything, since all attention was on him as Cyborg tried to pry the smaller man off his back. With the blond hairs now sticking out from under his wig, it was slightly easier to match Beastboy up with the picture I'd seen in his profile. Still, between the contacts that changed his eye color and the makeup that covered his scars and lightened his skin, it was a dubious match.

"Vic," A woman appeared in the doorway Beastboy had come from, her dark eyes locked on the white man. "Hold him still for me, would you?" Her voice was almost completely monotone as she practically glided towards the pair. "I need to have a discussion with him about proper-" She paused as Cyborg pointed to us, following his gesture. "Ah, so _that__'__s_ what he meant by 'The Iceman cometh'. Still getting sent on freak duty, Sergeant Frohst?" Wait, what?

"Volunteered, actually." Frohst grunted. "Heard tell you'd gone and gotten involved with the Titans; thought I'd see for myself." Ok, so the Sergeant Major not only knew that the Titans would be here, he knew that they had a new member _and_ that said member was someone he already knew? I was beginning to feel very out of the loop.

"They needed a medic." She shrugged, then tossed a sidelong glance at Beastboy. "And someone to smack them upside the head when they're being morons."

"Not to mention," The survivalist chimed in. "Demonstrating, _by__example,__I__should__stress_, the importance of self-control and forgiveness!" The dark-haired woman gave him a sharp glare, which caused him to squeak in fear and duck back behind Cyborg's shoulder. She turned back to Frohst.

"And I can handle myself perfectly well, thanks." At this, the Sergeant Major let loose with an honest-to-God laugh, which surprised me more than everything else put together. The last time, that is to say the only time, I'd ever heard him laugh was directly after being shot in the chest at close range with a beretta m9. He called the shooter a pansy and took the surgeons three hours to remove the gun from the guy's….. well, it wasn't pretty. The fact that Frohst had nearly died of blood loss by time we got him to medical help somehow failed to diminish how scary he could be.

"I don't doubt it, Raven." He said. "I just wanted to make sure you leave us a big enough chunk of Wilson to drag back stateside."

"No promises." She looked to me for a moment. "He here to babysit us as well?"

"This," Frohst clapped me on the shoulder as I tried to look like I had some idea of what was going on. "Is Richard Grayson. He's the best agent to come by in a long time." Ok, I could handle this. I've had a lot of practice accepting praise from superior officers. Scorn, too, but that's neither here nor there. "And _you_ will be babysitting _him_." Yes, yes, just doing my best to- Wait, what?

"E-excuse me?" I sputtered. "I don't need babysitting! I'm the youngest man to achieve my rank in agency history!"

"I joined one of the world's most elite mercenary groups before my tenth birthday." Beastboy offered, as if to refute my accomplishment.

"I'm an expert in more than twenty forms of combat!"

"Star knows thirty-two." Cyborg countered in that same casual tone that Beastboy had used.

"I-" I scrambled to save my pride, searching for anything impressive on my long list of abilities. "I speak six languages!"

"Seventeen." Raven's monotone sounded mocking to me. "Unless you count the dead ones. Then it's twenty-three." Frohst looked incredibly amused, while the Titans just looked indifferent and possibly slightly confused. There were a few moments of silence as I turned red from both anger and embarrassment. Luckily for my ego, the situation was interrupted by a soft voice.

"Please, friends, who is shouting?" The owner of the voice was the most beautiful woman on the planet. Flowing red hair, bright green eyes, exotically bronzed skin, and a natural elegance that would turn Audrey Hepburn green. "Is everything all-right?" Cyborg opened his mouth to answer, but I was already standing in front of the beauty.

"No, no, everything's just fine." I assured the tall woman. "We're your back-up from the states. We were just, ah, introducing ourselves! I'm Dick!" She looked confused. I'm such an idiot. She probably thought I was mentally defective or something. 'I'm Dick!' Yeah, that's a real winner. Need help finding the short bus, Dick? Crap, two seconds in and I've already blown every-

"My name is Starfire!" She suddenly returned enthusiastically. "It is most wonderful to meet you, Dick!" She grabbed either side of my face and leaned down quickly, pressing her lips to mine forcefully.

Oh. Oh wow. That's…. damn nice….

She pulled back far too fast for my liking, frowning in thought.

"Was that correct?" She bit her lower lip in a way that was pure weaponized cuteness.

"One on each cheek, Star." Raven informed her stoically.

"Oh, yes!" Starfire exclaimed with sudden realization. "My apologies." She quickly turned my face to each side, planting a kiss on my cheeks. "How was that, Dick?"

It was at that moment that I decided, regardless of the mission and Frohst, that I would not rest until I had joined the Titans.


	3. March of the Titans II

****Special thanks to Jynxed Keyboard for enjoying the March of the Titans oneshot and reminding me that it exists with his/her review. Yeah, I rather like the concept too.

**II**

"Ya know, Star," Beastboy distracted the statuesque woman from me, which was a good thing as I was still trying to recover from the best kiss of my life. My opinion of the survivalist was rapidly shooting upwards. "He's an American; they just shake hands instead of kissing." And then it began to plummet.

"Oh!" Starfire looked a cross of alarm and embarrassment. "My apologies!" She quickly grabbed my hand. It wasn't so nice as a kiss, but the sensation of her hand in mine was something I could easily get used to.

"Ah, no, it's not a problem at alllllllLAAAAAAHHHH!" To this day, I am amazed that the bones in my hand didn't shatter under the sheer force she applied. I'm actually a bit surprised I still _have_ a hand.

"Whoa, Star," Cyborg had begun moving the moment the ridiculously strong beauty had gripped my hand, and lightly grabbed her wrist as she squeezed. "Human hand. _Fragile._"

"Ah!" She snatched her hand away, eye wide. "Again, my apologies!" She clasped her hands in front of her in obvious remorse, then apparently thought better of it and hid them behind her back. "Have I brought you much harm?" The knee-jerk and probably justified 'What the Hell?' died on my tongue as I took in her worried expression. To take any action other than making her happy again would be akin to kicking a one-legged puppy.

"It's... fine." I gave what was likely a very unconvincing smile and wiggled my throbbing fingers to show her they were okay. "Just, uh, surprised me, is all." She looked uncertain for a moment, then beamed it me with palpable relief.

"Thank X'Hal." She sighed. "To crush you when you did not deserve it would be an unfortunate way to begin our new friendship." Um. There were a lot of way to take a statement like that, and only some of them were kinky. The casual way she said it forcefully reminded me that she was a Titan, and not because of her good looks. If the rest of her was as strong as her grip, she truly could crush me like a piece of rotten fruit, if provoked. At least it seemed like it would be easy enough to stay on her good side.

"You're swelling." Raven was suddenly by my side, pressing an ice packet into my undamaged hand. "And frankly, it's embarrassing." She informed me flatly. Her complete monotone made it difficult to tell what part of that, if any, was meant to be a joke. Beastboy found it hilarious. I got the distinct feeling he found most things hilarious.

"Ahem." The Sergeant Major cleared his throat obtrusively. "If you're done talking to a girl for the first time in your life, I believe some proper introductions are in order." Right, the mission. I snapped to attention.

"Yessir." He stared at me coldly for another moment, then rolled his eyes and jabbed a thumb at Raven.

"As you may have noticed, junior, the Titans have recruited a pair of new members. The ray of sunshine here is Raven R-"

"Just Raven, for now." The pale woman interrupted. Frohst raised an eyebrow at her, then shrugged.

"Fine, that's your prerogative." He turned back to me. "As I was saying, Raven is an experienced field medic, and she knows more about psychology than a room fulla shrinks. Whether it's your mind or your body that's messed up, she can fix it. She's also a natural with languages; between her, Starfire, and Beastboy, there isn't a country on the planet they can't communicate with." He paused, then smiled slightly. "Just don't piss her off, or she'll kick your ass so hard you'll shit out your shoulders."

"Seriously, dude," Beastboy cut in. "I've met hippos with less bite." His amused grin instantly turned apologetic when Raven gave him a sidelong glance.

"You'll be fine so long as you aren't an idiot." Raven assured me, giving the survivalist another meaningful look.

"The other new member," Frohst seized control of the conversation before it could get of the rails. "Is Koriand'r kacha Tamaran, aka Starfire of Tamaran."

"It's a lovely little country nestled between Mongolia and China." Cyborg supplied. I'd never heard of it, but the location did help explain her odd way of speaking. The Sergeant Major snorted.

"Yeah, prime vacation country." He said sarcastically. "The little lady is strong as an ox and strikes like a cobra, and is the team's close combat expert. Don't let the pretty face fool you, either; she's a prodigy when it comes to languages and problem solving. Hell, she didn't know a word of English six months ago." Huh. Firstly, that was beyond impressive. Secondly, where was Frohst getting all this intel?

"Please, you are giving me too much of the credit." Starfire protested modestly. "Raven, Victor, and Beastboy have all been most excellent teachers." She referred to the survivalist by his codename, but the others by their actual names. Interesting.

"Beastboy and Cyborg," The Sergeant Major plowed ahead, ignoring her. "You're already familiar with. Titans, this is Richard Grayson, aka Robin." I stood a little straighter, more out of habit than anything. You don't slouch when a superior officer is introducing you to someone. "He's received advanced training in tactics and planning, and he's the protege of the Batman himself, with all that entails. He's also got an inflated ego and a small tree up his ass." It took quite a bit of self control to not react to the jabs.

"Expression, Star." Beastboy informed the redhead as she leaned around me with wide eyes. She made a small sound of realisation, and my face turned a lovely shade of crimson, much to my annoyance.

"He's definitely the guy you're looking for, though." Frohst continued. "His skills cover your own skill gaps, and he's more than capable in a fight. Now, everyone acquainted?" He paused for less than a second. "Good. Cyborg, lay out the situation for us." The large man blinked at Frohst for a moment, then shrugged.

"Alright." He walked over to the table, and the rest of us followed. Upon closer examination, I could see little scratches in the table's surface. "Now, Slade's set up shop in an old mine about six kilometers from here. From what BB's observed, he's got about two hundred people on hand, all from the nearby towns. This," He pointed to a small circle scratch that was just to the side of a long oval. "Is the main elevator, right outside the big trench. It's operational, so Slade's got some kind of power set up."

"Isn't that to be expected?" I asked. Not much of an illegal base if it doesn't even have electricity.

"Slade's... kinda particular." Cyborg explained. "He doesn't do anything by halves, especially if they're easily noticed. So, he doesn't just hook up a generator, he builds an entire power grid that he can run without anyone finding out. If he's powering something as obvious as the main elevator, it's because he doesn't care who finds out he's here and he's got way more juice than he can use."

"He's not just hiding out." Raven added. "Slade doesn't do anything unless he has a reason. He doesn't put roots down unless he can draw something from the environment, and he doesn't build an army unless he's going to war."

"Plus," Beastboy held up a finger. "We're not entirely sure about the army thing." Victor rolled his eyes.

"Yes. We are." He insisted. "We've been over this, B."

"Dudes, hear me out." The shorter man turned to me with pleading eyes. "What if the mine was originally shut down because they dug too deep and found something lurking in the depths of the Earth?" There was, much to my shock, no trace of joking in his tone. "And now, Slade's here to try and unleash it! We could be up to our necks in mole men at any moment!" My God, he actually believed it.

"No." Raven stated firmly. Beastboy crossed his arms over his chest and went to sit on the cooler, fuming. Apparently, that's all it took to close the subject.

"Anyway," Cyborg shook his head. "A straight up assault isn't usually Slade's style. Even in his mercenary days, he always preferred to work from the shadows. We're thinking that the army is for guarding, rather than attacking."

"And so the question becomes," Starfire spoke slowly, staring at the scratches on the table. "If not the mole men, what does Slade have that is so important to protect?"

"And," I added, the wheels turning in my head. "Who does he expect to attack him?"

"Us, probably." Cyborg grinned. "This ain't the first time we've tangled with him and sent him running." I frowned.

"Wait, he's expecting the Titans?" I shook my head in disbelief. "And you're just going to run right in? The whole thing's probably a trap!"

"Yup." Victor nodded in agreement and confirmation.

"Would hate to disappoint him." Beastboy chipped in. "Besides, dude _loves_ to multitask."

"Yeah he does." Cyborg shrugged. "Even if it's a trap, he's still got something else going on there and it's up to us to stop him."

"Besides," Starfire smiled at me. "He does not know about you, and that is to our advantage." Well, damn. Coming from her, I was almost convinced right then that it wasn't suicide.

"Hell," Frohst sighed, leaning on his hands on the table. "Good enough for me. What's the plan?"

"We use the trench as our insertion point. According to BB, Slade and his mooks are sticking mainly to the central shaft. We enter at the far end of the trench and make our way to there via the ancillary tunnels."

"Place is more hole-y than the Pope." The survivalist joked. How reassuring to know that he had puns in addition to his insane mole people theories. Victor pulled a face at the horrible humour, but didn't comment, tracing his finger over some more scratches.

"Knowing Slade, he's probably got an Ops center set up in the most central location, so we make for that and kick his ass." That... was an incredibly simple plan. Personally, I'm a fan of details and covering the contingencies. Cyborg picked up on my apprehension. "With Slade, it's best to keep things simple. He's way too good at picking apart anything complicated." Frohst seemed fine with this.

"When do we move out?"

"Tonight."

* * *

><p>Time passed pretty quickly. I spent a while going over the plan and available information with Cyborg and Frohst, refining it as much as possible without getting too complex. Avoiding contact with the enemy until we had our target was priority one. We also decided that Frohst and I, being unknowns, would enter from the opposite end of the trench and keep hidden to maintain the element of surprise as long as possible.<p>

Cyborg was satisfied with this plan, but the lack of detail bothered me. Since Beastboy was the one who had been observing the mine, I went to see if I could glean a few more notes about its layout from him. The other Titans had wondered off to the side rooms at various points during the extended planning, so that's where I went. I hadn't paid attention to which one he'd gone to at the time, but luck was with me and he was in the first one I checked.

To my surprise, Raven was there as well. I'd gotten the impression that she disliked him, but there she sat on a pillow, right next to the pile of cushions that Beastboy was slumbering within. She looked very zen, her legs crossed in a lotus position, arms bent at the elbows with her hands curled upwards, and her eyes closed. I almost thought she was sleeping too, but I noticed she was muttering something under her breath.

"Azarath...Metrion...Zinthos...Azarath..." She stopped abruptly, eyes snapping open and locking on me. For that instant, she actually looked angry. Then, all traces of emotion slid from her face and she assumed her usual flat expression. "Robin." She greeted quietly.

"Uh, sorry." I said awkwardly. "I didn't mean to interrupt your, uh..." Relaxing? Resting? The proper word escaped me.

"Meditation." She provided, rising to her feet smoothly. I noted that she didn't use her hands to get up; she'd had some fighting training, I'd wager. Which, considering her job, wasn't exactly unexpected. "And I was almost finished anyway. Starfire is in the other room." Well, that was certainly an abrupt change of topic.

"Uh, ok?" The pale woman paused for a moment.

"I assumed you were looking for her." She explained, still keeping her voice low. "She respects honesty and openness, by the way." It seems I'd been pretty obviously taken with the tall woman earlier. Bruce would certainly not approve of such transparency. Still, I filed the information away for later. "That's all the hints I'm giving you."

"Actually, I was looking for him." I gestured to the pile of cushions. " I was hoping to get some more information on the mine." Raven looked to the sleeping survivalist, then back to me.

"You think he's withholding something from us?" Despite the fact that her tone didn't change in the slightest, I thought I heard disapproval in her voice. I held up my hands diplomatically.

"I just wanted to make sure we've got all the intel we possibly can. There may be something he didn't mention because it seemed inconsequential at the time, or because he forgot to." I said placatingly. "I don't think he'd intentionally keep something from the team." She held my gaze for a few seconds more, then nodded slowly.

"Alright." She said, settling back down on her pillow and returning to her meditative pose. "He'll be awake in twenty minutes; you can ask him then." She closed her eyes. Being so obviously and casually dismissed rankled me slightly, but I turned on my heel and quietly exited the room.

I avoided seeking out Starfire, as I wanted to make sure I had complete control over myself before I spoke to her again, and occupied myself with the plan and drilling Cyborg on the team's strengths and weaknesses. He was tight-lipped about any of their pasts, but that didn't bother me much. I'm not exactly open about my history either. Eventually, Beastboy came strolling into the main room and I went over the mine details with him, Raven keeping a close eye on the conversation. Unfortunately, it yielded nothing that would add to the plan, so all I got for my troubles were mine-related puns.

Dinner was a... colourful affair. Beastboy is strictly vegetarian, and Cyborg is apparently pure carnivore. They don't seem to understand the sentiment of 'live and let live'. Or, at least, not towards each other, anyway. Again, Frohst seemed unsurprised by the Titans and their behaviour. I was beginning to suspect just why that was.

Not long after the remains of the dinner battle were cleaned up, it was time for the mission. We assembled in the central room, if one could call it an assembly. Now, with mercenaries, you can always expect them to be less formal and disciplined than men like Frohst and me, but the Titans hardly seemed to even be paying attention! Starfire and Raven stood off to the far and of the room, idly chatting in low tones, while Beastboy hovered over Cyborg's shoulder as the black man messed with the cooler. Only the Sergeant Major and I were anywhere near the door or a state of readiness. After a few minutes of waiting, I was beginning to grow annoyed when Cyborg spoke.

"What?" He sounded shocked, and perhaps a touch angry. "Did you seriously change my password, grass stain?" Beastboy cackled evilly. "So not cool, B."

"That's what happens when you don't secure the network, dude." The survivalist chided him smugly. "Some handsome, strong, brilliant stud of a hacker-"

"Annnnnd bypassed. Booyah."

"Dude, what?" The smugness instantly morphed into disbelief. "I used, like, special characters and numbers and everything!" Cyborg chuckled.

"Well, you know, that's what happens when you don't secure the network, B." He echoed, managing to sound almost twice as self-satisfied as the shorter man had. "Some handsome, strong, brilliant stud of a hacker comes along and-"

"Yadda yadda yadda." Beastboy cut him off, waving his arms in annoyance. "You're the king of the tech geeks, bow before Cyborg, blah blah blah."

"Hey now, no need to be dismissive of my amazing skills. Just because you couldn't tell COBOL from Perl, there's-"

"Are we leaving anytime soon?" Raven suddenly spoke over him. "Or should we just come back when you two are done being five years old?" Thank God her patience was ever so slightly shorter than mine, elsewise I might had ended up yelling at the pair and looking like an ass in front of Starfire. Not that the yelling would be unjustified; we _did_ have a mission that could mean life or death for untold amounts of people to get to, after all.

"Alright, alright." Cyborg pulled the cooler away from the wall, revealing a hidden hole. He pulled some kind of PDA and a helmet from it. He scrutinized the former. "Sensors topside says nobody's around and the sun's just starting to set, so we can get underway."

"Then let's move." Frohst rumbled impatiently, jerking a thumb towards the door. "Giving Deathstroke extra time to himself never works out for us." The Titans gave various nods and gestures of agreement and we headed out to the car. The brief confusion about seating arrangements was ended when Cyborg slipped behind the wheel and Frohst called shotgun. Yeah, no one really wanted to dispute him on that.

Luckily, the car was roomy enough that we were still relatively comfortable with four of us stuffed in the back seat. Raven and Starfire called window seats, citing such reasons as a desire to feel the wind from the window and an intense need to be able to look out at something that wasn't the rest of us. I'll let you puzzle out who said what. This left Beastboy and I sandwiched in the middle, and the survivalist was kind enough to let me be the one to sit next to the beautiful redhead, giving me an exaggerated wink and about a dozen nudges with his elbow while doing so. Not that I was actually going to try and talk to her in a small, enclosed place with all her teammates and my superior officer there.

As such, I did my best to remain facing forward at all times and maintained the perfect veneer of professionalism. The ride was mercifully short, even with Beastboy telling knock-knock jokes that went stale in the second grade the whole way. I assumed it was his way of preparing for the mission. Some people psych themselves up before heading into a combat situation, while others seek to center themselves. It made sense to me that Beastboy would center himself by telling jokes, convincing himself that it was just another day. Imagine my horror when I later found out that he doesn't do it to keep calm, but because he suffers from the delusion that he's actually funny.

We parked about a mile from the mine, and Beastboy and Cyborg hid the car away quite nicely. From there, we hoofed it under the cover of darkness. It didn't take us long to reach trench, which looked completely and utterly deserted. That made me a touch nervous. From what I'd been told about Slade, it seemed unlikely that he would leave the place unguarded. Which meant that we simply couldn't _see_ the guards. Or perhaps he had some other type of monitoring in place. Either way, I didn't like it.

"Ok then," Beastboy whispered when we reached the first insertion point. Without him pointing it out, I would have assumed it was yet another sheer drop and missed it. Looking down, though, I could just make out a tiny ledge about ten feet down, leading to an opening that, apparently, led into the mine. "Frohst, Robin, Star, this is your entry. The rest of us will circle round the other side and enter from there." I blinked.

"This is actually Star's first mission with us." Cyborg answered before I could ask. "Which means she's _also_ an unknown to Slade. Plus, her communicator will let your group stay in contact, so Frohst and I thought it best she go with you guys." He looked to the other Beastboy and Raven. "Alright, let's move." I sent a quick glare at Frohst as he watched them leave. Yeah, thanks for cluing me in. I looked to Starfire to gauge her reaction to this, only to find her standing with her back to the edge of the man-made cliff, staring at me.

"Come!" She commanded, raising her fist. "Our righteous work begins!"

And then she stepped backwards off the edge.


End file.
